


Fall Out And Aftermath.

by theweakestthing



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweakestthing/pseuds/theweakestthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you even believe me," he murmured faintly, almost too quiet for Fushimi to hear. </p><p>"Believe you about what?"</p><p>"Do you believe me when I say that I love you?" Yata finally looked up at Fushimi, eyes wide and swimming. </p><p>"Sometimes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Out And Aftermath.

Yata paced, wearing the wood flooring thin with the intensity of his worry. They had made plans for that night and those plans were slowly turning cold on the small table besides the kitchenette, not that it really mattered to Yata. He'd let the food go cold if Fushimi would just let him know that he was alright, a fucking text at the very least. 

He stilled sighing as he dragged his fingers down his face, he looked at his watch for the billionth time. It was getting close to two in the morning and Yata was dangerously close to actually calling those damned blues. 

The sound of a key rattling in the door startled Yata, he stood stock still as the door slowly swung open. Fushimi stepped inside and for the first time since they'd started living together, Yata wasn't relieved to see the other instead he was angry. 

"Oh, you're still awake, you shouldn't have stayed up for me," Fushimi murmured lowly as he quietly closed the door behind him. 

"How the fuck was I supposed to go to sleep?" Yata yelled. "I didn't know where you were, what was happening," he stopped and sighed, "we made plans for tonight, don't you remember?" 

"Oh," Fushimi expelled, brows rising with the realisation, "sorry, I just-there was a strain and things got a little out of hand but don't-"

"Worry? Don't worry?!" Yata was shaking. "How can you say something like that? It's like asking me not to love you," his brows knit together as he spat the bitter words.

"I never asked you to do either," Fushimi snarled and then sighed, "look," he rubbed his brow, "I'm sorry, I should have messaged you or something but I got swept up in the mission and I'm bone tired, can't we talk about this in the morning?" He tilted his head and blinked slowly. 

"N-no, I'm sick of this, you never remember to tell me when you're going to be late," Yata's lips curled as he spoke, "and how am I supposed to not worry about you, you can't even look after yourself."

"I'm fine Misaki," Fushimi drew out, frustrated. 

"But you're not, you forget to eat all the damned time, did you even have lunch?" Yata shoved his finger pointedly in Fushimi's direction. The way Fushimi didn't meet his eyes told him more than enough. "If you can't even feed yourself how am I supposed to believe that you're going to be okay out there fight whatever the fuck!" 

"Tck."

"What was that?" Yata said dangerously. 

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself out in the field," Fushimi said sternly. 

"Oh really?" Yata raised a brow and jabbed his hand between Fushimi's ribs, the latter hissed and bent over holding himself. "See! Fucking hell Saru, what am I supposed to do if, if-"

"If I died?" Fushimi smirked down at Yata. "If I died maybe I'd actually be able to finally eclipse that man, that fucking shadow I've been living in," he leaned lifelessly back against the door. "You know what, Misaki," he spat the name as though it were poison, "the only thing that I've never recovered from is you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yata's face scrunched up in genuine confusion, which only sent Fushimi over the edge. 

"You're so fucking clueless, we've come this far and you're still so fucking blind," Fushimi said, looking down his nose at the other. 

"I just care about you Saru, can't you appreciate that and actually explain something to me for once?" Yata said pleadingly. 

"Care? What's your affection worth when it's thrown every which way?" Fushimi said, his top lip curled upward. 

"This bullshit again? We're going here again? Seriously Saru?" Yata's eyes widened with disbelief. "How many times do I have to tell you that you're the most important person in my life? How many fucking confessions will it take before you chill the fuck out?" His voice rose along with his frustration, this had been the argument that had brought them together, but it was the one that was slowly tearing them apart. "How can you always be so high and mighty when you're the one that ripped us apart in the first place?"

That dry humourless laughter cracked out of Fushimi as he bent away from the door, abdomen still in his hand. 

"You're the one that ruined everything, I just gave it the final blow. You took your eyes off of me, you couldn't see me anymore, not with him encompassing your vision, it was more than easy to leave without being noticed," Fushimi said simply, "it was so funny when you acted like the one that was hurt," a bitter smile crept across his face. 

"We both hurt each other and I'm here now, I'm looking now, isn't that enough?" Yata said moving in front of Fushimi. 

"It's never going to be enough, you still think I'm like them, like everyone else, I never belonged there and you never noticed," Fushimi said, shaking his head as though it were all one big joke. 

"I know all that shit now, why does the past matter, we've moved on," Yata's brows came together as he scrambled to hold the broken pieces together.

"You haven't moved on, you still talk about him, I hate hearing that fucking name from your mouth," Fushimi snapped stepping forward, crowding Yata. 

"I didn't love him like I love you, you fucking idiot!" Yata gripped the front of Fushimi's shirt bringing the other down to eye level. "Mikoto-san was someone I cared about, do you really expect me to forget about him, to stop thinking about him or stop talking about him simply because he's dead?! Have you ever cared about anything ever in your shit stain of a life?" Yata could hardly believe he was saying these words again. 

"You."

"What?" Yata groaned.

"You're the only thing I've ever cared about, don't you understand how hard it is to share you with other people?" Fushimi said sharply, as though the petulant words could cut   
Yata. 

"You're being a fucking child, I've got friends and you've just got to get the fuck over it," Yata threw Fushimi back against the door, letting go of the other's shirt. "And don't you   
fucking dare tell me that you don't care about anyone else, what about the blues, I'm sure you care about some of them at least," he was tired, having the same argument again and again was tiring. "Can't you at least try to think of it from my perspective? "

"I wouldn't know how to think like a moron," Fushimi threw back the instant Yata stopped talking, so Yata threw his fist against Fushimi's already battered ribs. It wasn't as hard as it could have been but it still made Fushimi bend over with his hands clutched tight against his body. 

"Do you have any tact whatsoever?" 

"You could have called me you know," Fushimi brought it back round again. 

"Would you really have answered?" Yata said, knowing the answer already. 

"Probably not," Fushimi said standing up again, with one swift movement of his leg he swept Yata's out from under him. Yata fell to the floor with a thud, he sat there for a moment. 

"Do you even believe me," he murmured faintly, almost too quiet for Fushimi to hear. 

"Believe you about what?" 

"Do you believe me when I say that I love you?" Yata finally looked up at Fushimi, eyes wide and swimming. 

"Sometimes."

"Get out," Yata got to his feet in a flash. 

"What?!" 

"Get out," Yata said, mouth twitching in that treacherous way. 

"I-I,"

"That's the most horrible thing you've ever said to me," Yata's voice wavered but he kept his eyes on Fushimi's. 

"I'm trying Misaki, but I-" Fushimi knew he didn't possess the right words to fix what he had broken, he always managed to get into fights that he couldn't finish. 

"I can't listen to this self-loathing, misanthropic bullshit anymore," Yata wiped the falling tears away with the back of his hands. "I'm going to bed," he slowly walked off in the direction of the bedroom, "I'm glad you're okay," he said before closing the door, leaving Fushimi standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

-

Yata buried his face into his pillow and did his best to cry quietly, mouth silently open. This was how it always went with Fushimi, it was so hard to get the other to admit that he had feelings that Yata wondered why he even bothered sometimes. 

He knew Fushimi cared, despite everything the man said his actions spoke volumes. Yata rolled over and faced the ceiling, eyes tracing the cracks and discolouration that ran along it. Fushimi had always had issues with voicing his feelings, Yata knew that the other would rather spit vile words that wounded the pair of them than admit that he loved Yata. 

Yata knew though, felt it deep in his bones, it was in the way Fushimi would always be on the edge of saying something in their rare moments of intimacy. Something was stuck on the tip of Fushimi's tongue and Yata wanted to rip it off. 

-

The world was a void and all that existed within it was that door and what lied beyond it. Fushimi still stood, he wondered why he'd even said that, it wasn't true. He knew Yata loved him, it was almost impossible not to know. Yata wasn't the most subtle of people and Fushimi had always had the feeling somewhere at the back of his mind, Yata loved with everything he had, it was something that you couldn't miss. 

Himself on the other hand, he was unsure about. He guessed he had meant that he only thought he loved Yata sometimes, that felt fundamentally wrong even as the words crawled along his mind. He'd always loved Yata, he'd never really known what to do with those feelings though. They tore at him, sometimes filling his lungs and other times stealing all his breath. 

He knew the answer and the answer was pathetic, his nails caught on the charred mess of skin on his collarbone. He only felt like he deserved to love and be loved by Yata sometimes. Fushimi clicked his tongue. 

-

Patience was not a virtue that Yata possessed and he was pretty sure that Fushimi was the same, neither of them were ever willing to wait. Yata stared at the door, maybe if he gave Fushimi some space for the night then the idiot might be able to pull a genuine emotion out of his clogged up throat, he thought. 

There was nothing that Yata wanted more than to hear those three words fall from that gorgeous mouth that had been turned crooked by the treacherous words it often spilled. The evidence of it was there, plain for all to see. The way Fushimi had actually made it home with injuries instead of spending the night in the Blue's infirmary. The way Fushimi had quietly opened the door. The way that Fushimi was actually trying for him. 

Sometimes the actions weren't enough, sometimes Yata yearned to hear what he knew. 

Yata knew he should have more patience with Fushimi, the other just didn't know how to love him and was learning bit by bit. 

He jumped to his feet and reached for the door handle. 

Yata was determined to teach Fushimi. 

-

Guilt was something that Fushimi often denied, but with Yata it was an ever present emotion. He knew he loved Yata and he knew that he'd never give the other up, not in a million years, not even if he knew he didn't deserve Yata or his love. Fushimi knew he was a selfish man, but life is too short not to take what you want and Yata was one of the very few things that he desired. 

Yata wore his emotions like the skins of his enemies, the boy was brave, braver than Fushimi in that sense. Fushimi wasn't about to be out done by the other, if he could just turn it into a competition then maybe he could actually say the god forsaken words. 

If love was a competition then Fushimi was dead last, at the bottom of the mountain as Yata stood on the summit shining down at Fushimi blindingly. 

To Fushimi love was a game of balance, you had to fight to maintain the equilibrium, level the scales. 

Fushimi wasn't one to allow others to be equal to him, but this wasn't just anyone, this was Yata. Yata the golden boy that would follow him to hell and back, Fushimi would do the same for the other, his hands turned to fists at his sides. 

He steeled his resolve as he reached for the handle. 

-

Yata opened the door and Fushimi fell into his arms, and then on top of him sending them to the floor in a tangled mess of limbs.

There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other, then they laughed. Yata drew Fushimi into his lap as he sat up against the bed, pulling the other close. 

"Saru," Yata called, he was always calling. Fushimi hummed lightly in response. "Repeat after me, I love you," he said slowly, putting every ounce of his love into those words. 

Fushimi climbed high upon Yata's body, looming over the other. He stared down at Yata, glacial eyes gleaming like the northern lights.

"I love you, Misaki," he smiled, the words were out, away from him, he felt relieved, he felt giddy. 

"Was that so hard?" Yata smiled, shining like the sun that Fushimi orbited. 

"Loving you is simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing I've ever done," Fushimi said honestly, letting the words fill him up. 

"Fucking tell me about it," Yata laughed, petting Fushimi's hair. 

"Nothing worth doing is easy," Fushimi said mouth so close to Yata's that the other could feel the words. 

"If I thought the opposite do you really think I'd still be here?" Yata said pointedly before closing the distance between them. 

A kiss like drowning, Yata was slowly filling Fushimi up. Crawling into his lungs, Fushimi couldn't breathe but that didn't really seem to matter at the time.


End file.
